Speeding Cars
by RJ Lewis the III
Summary: He was the idiot who thought he was invincible. She was the one who proved him wrong. Reid/OC -DISCONTINUED-
1. Chapter 1: The Whistle Song

This is the **revised** version of a previously posted story of mine, Speeding Cars. Check out the profile for a complete author's note.

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**Everything that you may recognize from the movie or otherwise does not belong to me.  
Trud and Imogen both are creations of my imagination. I'd rather like to keep it that way.**

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**1. The Whistle Song**

_Everyday can be a decision between life and death and its up to you make the decision of how strong you're willing to be. You can either stand and fight or die where you lay._

--

The sounds of an old shower filled the silent house and it was quickly replaced by a hair dryer screaming loudly. Seconds later, _Just Impolite_ by Plushgun rang out from the bathroom, drowning out the dryer easily. A cat climbed in through in the open window letting out a whiny meow, scratching at the white door leading into the bathroom. She called out pitifully a few more times before abandoning the door and leaped on to the deserted bed, making herself at home in no time. She stared at the closed bathroom door distastefully before rolling onto her back and falling back to sleep.

A few moments later, Gertrude (better known to many as simply 'Trud'), stumbled out of her bathroom, toothbrush jammed in her mouth while she jumped on one foot, attempting to put on a striped sock. Her long, brown hair was tied up with a shoe lace messily; almost more hair was out of the lace than in it. She pulled on a pair of worn jeans that had holes in the knees, courtesy of years of being worn. A blue polo shirt went on over her plain yellow shirt and Trud grabbed a pair of Converse as she dashed from her room, calling goodbye to C.A.T, the aforementioned slightly overweight tabby cat. A faint meow followed the rushed girl down the hall in a stalled reply. She didn't bother running down the entire steps, jumping off the side of the stairs where the banister had broken off years before.

"I'm leaving!" Trud called while grabbing a muffin from a basket on the kitchen counter and her keys from off the center table. She waited for a response from her father and let out a sigh when none came. Quickly, she walked into the den and was unsurprised to find a passed out man occupying her couch with beer bottle in hand, dangling off the side. With a sigh, Trud grabbed the bottle and covered her dad with a blanket. She threw the bottle away in the trash and unhooked her plaid bag from a peg near the back door before heading out.

Climbing into her 1969 yellow and black Mustang she smiled at the revving engine. Sounds of heaven. With a grin, Trud pulled expertly out of her small drive-way and headed towards town. Flipping on the radio, she glanced at the clock and cursed at the time. Her speed picked up, the Massachusetts scenery flying by her window. It was nearing the end of summer and only a few trees had started turning colors yet. When everything finally fell into fall, she would be out in the woods, taking pictures of everything. Fall was easily her favorite season, what with all the beautiful colors.

Her car bounced as it rolled into the back parking lot of Denny's. Trud climbed out of her car, making sure to lock the door behind her. She sprinted across the parking lot, which was still wet from the night's rain, and threw open the door that had 'Employee's Only' thrown across it in red paint. Tossing her bag into a random corner, she dashed through the back hall and into the front where the clocking-in machine sat, waiting for her. She punched her card and grinned, seeing that she was still a few minutes early.

"Cutting it a bit close there, kid," a voice stated behind her as Trud turned in surprise before laughing at the tired face that greeted her. Imogen stood a few feet away from her, circles underneath her eyes and dark hair pulled up almost hazardously in the back. She wore the same uniform that Trud did, blue polo with the Denny's logo and jeans. A few years older separated the two girls, but after working together for around a year, they had become rather good friends.

"Overslept again," Trud explained, walking back to where she had flung her bag in the corner. Imogen followed behind her, pulling out a packet of gum from her apron. She offered one to the other girl and put them away when Trud declined.

"Bad night's sleep again?" she asked. Imogen leaned against the wall of the back room and watched as her friend bent down to pick up her bag.

Trud nodded her head, pulling her own apron out of her bag and turned back to her with a grimace. "'Lot on my mind, you know?" A lot was a rather large understatement.

With a laugh Imogen grabbed Trud had pulled her towards the kitchens. "I don't blame you. If I were you," she said, pushing open the swinging double doors easily, "I would be in the Bahamas by now. Or at least Hawaii." She added as an afterthought, giving a skeptical Gertrude an encouraging smile.

"Do I look like a 'beach babe' to you?" Trud inquired, gesturing to her messy hair and torn jeans. Imogen stopped and looked her over, pretending to judge her. She twirled her index finger in an attempt to get her to spin and frowned when her friend failed to amuse her. Trud just gave her a smile and began to fill her apron pockets with a few pens and a order pad.

"Beach babe?" Imogen repeated, still following her friend and watched Trud walk like a pageant judge. "No. Hobo?" Trud took that moment to let out a loud burp, blushing slightly at her friend's upraised eyebrow. She continued with a slight look of disgust. "That I would agree on."

A ding rang from out front, signaling a customer had come in. While throwing a glare to a laughing Imogen, Trud walked through another set of swinging doors. "I resent that!" she called back, turning to the counter with a small, half smile.

After giving the customer a cup of black coffee To-Go and checking on the other patrons, she walked back through the doors. "I don't think I'm feeling the love right now, Im," she announced, leaning against a stove and staring at her friend who was eating a piece of cheese and reading the comic section of the Ipswich Herald. It was hard at times to remember that she was the older of the two.

Imogen shrugged, swallowing the last of her cheese. "You asked," she said truthfully, a smile playing on the corner of her glossed lips as she stood up straight. "I simply answered. Think of it this way: I could've lied to you. But instead I was a true friend to you and told you honest to God truth. Shouldn't that make you love me more, knowing I would never _ever_ lie to you?" The sickly sweet tone to Imogen's voice matched perfectly to the fake smile on her face as Trud stared at her in awe.

"I'm trying to figure out if that was sarcasm, or if you really are a cold-hearted bitch deep down," she muttered, truly unsure.

"It's sad how after a year, you still can't figure out when I'm being sarcastic," Imogen said with a slightly depressed look on her face. "Well, sorta. I wasn't joking about the true friend thing." Her face brightened for a moment until a frown overcame it again and she jutted out her hip, pointing at Trud." But really, you do look like a hobo at the moment, hon. Can't you go buy some more.. flattering clothes? Those jeans don't do a thing for you."

"People wonder why I have crappy self esteem," Trud mumbled with a small smile. A small wince flashed across her face a few minutes later. She gently rubbed her ribs in a futile attempt to ease the slow approaching pain she knew was coming. With a sigh she picked her bag back up and rummaged through it, coming out of it with a bottle of pills in hand. She could feel Imogen's eyes on the back of her head as she walked to the sink, grabbed a glass and filled it with water before downing a couple pills. Letting out a deep breath, Trud leaned against the sink and allowed her tired eyes to close. A gentle hand rested on her shoulder as Imogen looked her over with a worried look.

"You gonna be alright to work today?" Imogen asked carefully as she rubbed Trud's back soothingly. "I'm sure Stan can get someone to fill in."

Trud shook her head slowly and pushed herself away from the sink, shooting her concerned friend a thankful look. "I'm good," she said quietly.

A few moments of silence hung between the two before one of the other waitresses came into the back asking for help. Both girls jumped at the chance of distraction and quickly went to take orders from the sudden horde of people in the diner. The next few hours were filled with the morning rush that had somehow flowed seamlessly into the lunch rush. Two of the other waitresses had relieved both Trud and Imogen for their lunch hour nearly four hours into their shift. They placed orders with the cook, Jared, and went to find an empty booth.

"I hate people," Trud stated with a sigh as she and Imogen sat down at a back booth, their food in hand.

Imogen gave her an amused look. "You love people, Truds."

Shaking her head, Trud stuffed a fry into her mouth that was slathered with gravy. Imogen looked at her with disgust before starting to eat her own food. "Not today. People are stupid today. As in, abnormally stupid."

"People are stupid every day."

"Well, they're stupider than normal today," she said.

"This coming from the girl eating gravy and _fries_," Imogen started, daintily digging into her salad. Trud grinned at her and made sure to make a show of eating the last of her delicious gravy fries. "You work any more on the list?"

It was a quick question, after which Imogen stuffed a handful of fries into her mouth almost in embarrassment. She did not however break the eye contact she held with the girl opposite her. Picking up her hamburger, Trud shook her head slowly and stared at it. "I don't really know what else I'm going to put on it," she took a bite of her burger and swallowed it, looking at Imogen in slight confusion. "What the hell am I supposed to write? I'm afraid of heights, so bungee jumping and sky diving are out. The ocean scares the shit out of me, salt water is unnatural. I'm almost completely broke which cuts out anything that takes money," she stared up at Imogen with an expressionless face. "And last time I checked, pretty much everything in the world takes money, something I don't _have_."

"You need to finish it," Imogen said in a quiet voice, nudging her lettuce leaves around her plate rather than eating them. Trud scoffed, taking another bite of her burger. "I'm serious, Trud," Imogen pressed, ceasing to play with her food, "You're going to regret it if you don't."

"What's the point of it all, Im? It's not exactly like I have time to do all of it anyway."

Imogen gave Trud a hard stare, pointing her fork at her threatening. "Don't you dare say that, Gertrude Elizabeth. Don't you dare." Her blue eyes held tears in them, though none overcame their boundaries. Her face held a seriousness that only came when the two friends discussed the list, or It_._ Trud often wonder why they even bothered bringing It up when all It did was cause Imogen to become upset.

She softened, seeing her friend was trying to withhold her tears. Reaching a hand across the table, she grabbed Imogen's hand with hers. "You know it's going to happen, Im," Trud said softly, her voice comforting. "You know what the doctors said. A year, at most. You gotta learn to let me go."

Pulling her hand away like she'd been physically slapped, Imogen looked at her fiercly. "You're not going to die, Trud. I'm not going to let you." Her face turned excited and she leaned forward in her seat. "I've got it all planned out. Don't worry about a thing. We're gonna get you the money, Trud. I promise," she reached out and took back Trud's hand and smiled at her. "I'm gonna fix this, I promise."

Another waitress, Bertie, called out for her before Trud had a chance to respond before her friend picked up her plate and glass, leaving to help with customers at the front. She let out a groan and let her head fall to the table with a thud. She banged it against the hard surface a few times before letting it rest in peace. Reaching into her apron pocket without lifting her head, she grabbed a loose order ticket and pulled it out. Trud leaned back in the booth, staring at the ticket with a frown. Scrawled across the top in sloppy handwriting was "The Bucket List". The whole thing had been Imogen's idea, something to take her mind off everything in the coming months.

At first Trud had been truly excited of a list of things to occupy her time, but soon the list became nothing but a burden. Still, she continued to work on it even if it was just for Imogen's benefit. Number ten was taken by _Learn to Ice Skate_ and _See a Broadway show, on Broadway _had taken up residence on number three. A few others were scrawled on the edges of the ticket, no yet having a permanent space on the list. She indeed saw the irony of Imogen's crusade to save her life while still forcing her to fill out a list of all the things Trud wanted to do before she finally did.

She didn't know which was worse, knowing she was going to die one day or knowing her friend knew it as well. It wasn't Trud that was going to have to deal with the aftermath of the end. No, it would be Imogen who would be forced to pick herself back up and continue on. She would be the one who would cry herself to sleep at night, have to make arrangements for the funeral, be the one to move on. Trud would be the one looking down on her from the sky, hating herself every moment of every day for leaving behind her one and only true friend. She hated herself already.

With another low groan, Trud let her head fall back onto the table. She ignored the dull pain starting to form in her head and sighed loudly, crumpled the list tightly in her fist.

"That can kill brain cells you know," a voice told her from above. It belonged to either a guy or a very manly sounding woman. She could just see the tips of a pair beat up black converse over the edge of the table her head was currently planted on and tried not to let out an aggravated sigh.

"I'm on my lunch break," she said not really caring at all if she was being rude. Could this man/shim not notice she wanted a tad bit of alone time to wallow in her current predicament? Really, she just wanted a few moments to herself. Was that really a hard request to be fulfilled? No, it wasn't. Stupid kid. "They'll help you once you find yourself a table."

"Ah. Sorry, my bad. Mind if I sit here? No? Good."

Trud felt the table shift and looked up blearily to see a blond guy, maybe a year older than her, sitting across from her suddenly. His blue eyes pierced hers and a smirk was sitting lightly on his lips. He wore a black short sleeved shirt and jeans from what she could see. To finish off what she could only guess was his 'bad-ass' attire, the boy had black leather fingerless gloves on. Oh yeah, this kid was_ differently_ from the "wrong side of the tracks". Who _ever_ would want to mess with a skinny white boy such as himself?

She stared at the boy opposite her incredulously. "What're you doing?"

The guy gave her a confused look as he sifted through a menu that a curious Imogen had set down in front of him. She threw Trud a wide grin before disappearing into the kitchens, double doors swinging behind her. Trud glared after her traitorous friend as the guy looked down at the menu in thought. "Is the French Toast here good? I always hate when restaurants put cinnamon on the French Toast. They don't do that here, do they?"

Trud stared at him, truly confused and lost. He didn't seem to notice or care as he continued looking through the menu intently apparently looking for any signs of cinnamon. "What?"

"French Toast. Cinnamon. Here?" The boy lowered his menu and spoke to her in a slow voice, much like someone would talk to a slow five year old.

"No, no cinnamon French Toast," she answered finally, giving him an odd look as she leaned back in the booth. He smiled for a brief moment at her answer, as if pleased he had gotten a straight answer from her. She racked her mind for any indication that she knew him, but come up empty. Trud leaned on her elbows and stared at him. "Do I know you?"

He didn't even bother looking up. "Not that I know of."

She frowned. "Is there any reason you sat down at my table, other to apparently annoy me?"

The boy sighed and set down his menu and clasping his hands in front of him on the table. "I needed coffee and food before I go back to school. You looked slightly depressed and had the best seat in the entire place." Trud looked at him disbelieving and glanced around them, instantly noticing her table was probably the worst in the entire joint. "Naturally, I decided to grace you with my presence. Therefore I am making your entire day a whole hell of a lot better. No need to thank me," he added with a small smirk before picking his menu back up.

"Someone's a little full of themselves, aren't we?" Trud asked, leaning forward a bit in her seat.

He shrugged, finally setting down his menu with a decision in mind. "I think I'm gonna go with French Toast and extra bacon."

"Good choice," she said, raising her eyebrows and leaned back in her seat.

A silence fell over the two teens as the guy pulled out a cell phone and began texting on it with a frown. She watched him jabbing violently at the keys and wondered who was on the receiving of his texting. Girlfriend? Brother? Friend? She shook her head and looked down at the crumpled piece of paper still held in her fist. With a sigh she began to flatten it out on the table and uncapped the pen once again.

She looked at The Bucket List in frustration. Imogen had given her a limit of ten slots to fill in. That gave her only ten things to do before she died. Ten things to do before she was gone and off the world, permanently. It hadn't sounded that hard when Trud had agreed to it, but as she tried to narrow down all the things she had always said she would do before death came knocking, it was turning out to be a hell of list to finish. It didn't help at all that some nights, she didn't even want to finish the list. Sometimes, things were too real.

Feeling the boy's eyes on her suddenly, Trud looked up from the ticket uncertainly. His eyes were in fact not on her but on the ticket laying wrinkled on the table top. "What?"

The boy frowned and read the title upside down. "The Bucket List?" he said, though not quite making it into a question. He looked up at her with the frown still in place. "What's that? Some kind of weird hobby of yours? Things you gotta put in a bucket when you get home?"

'I wish', she thought before shaking her head slowly. "Not exactly."

He smiled almost uncertainly at her. "I'm not following."

Trud laughed without humor and lowered her head slightly. Did she really need to explain herself to this random guy who had decided to sit down at _her_ table during _her_ lunch break while she was trying to write _her_ Bucket List? Of course not. She let out a sigh and looked back up at the confused boy with a small smile as she brushed away a stray piece of unruly hair. "It's a Bucket List. You know, a list of all the things you wanna do before you 'kick the bucket'?"

The smile instantly disappeared from his face, in its place stood a completely blank face, void of any expression. Trud knew that look, it was the same look that the doctors had on when they first told her of the cancer. It was of someone who wanted to care, but couldn't bring themselves to for whatever reason they might have. She never knew if the blank expressions were better than the ones filled with pity. She was tired of pity. "You're dying?" he asked finally, an edge of anger that surprised her.

"That's what they tell me," she said, lowering her eyes from the intense gaze he had trained on her.

"That's fucked up," the boy said in a low voice and she couldn't help but agree. What teenager earned the right to die young?

She let out a laugh and sighed. "A little bit, yeah."

A waitress came with the boy's food and she gave Trud a wink and a pat on the shoulder before leaving. Trud threw another glare after the woman as the boy allowed a smug smirk to come over his face. She couldn't help but think the smirk looked more at home on his face than anything else she'd seen in the past few minutes.

"Never been ice skating?" he inquired, pointing his fork to the ticket as he accidentally dripped syrup on it. Trud wiped it away with a frown using the edge of the napkin on the table beside her empty plate. The boy gave her an apologetic look as he stuffed a forkful of his cinnamon-less French Toast.

"Just never got around to it," she explained. "I'm not exactly a walking specimen of Grace either."

The boy nodded, smirk still in place as he took another disgustingly large bite of his French Toast. The two sat in silence while she stared at the list in growing frustration and he finished his breakfast. He continued to sit at the table quietly, simply watching Trud until he jumped at the sound of a cheesy ringtone. He rolled his eyes and pulled back out his phone, cursing at the name on the caller ID. He didn't bother to answer it before he started climbing out of the booth.

"I've gotta go," he said, standing up and leaving a handful of bills on the table at which she raised an eyebrow at. There was a pretty good tip stuffed in there. "I'm late for school as it is. What school do you go to? Public?" he asked the question in a rush, taking a slightly amused Trud off guard. He looked down at her expectantly while he pulled a pair of keys out of his jean pockets.

Trud laughed and shook her head, "I'm a drop out. "

"No shit," the boy said with a laugh while looking truthfully surprised. "I didn't take you as the type to drop out."

She shrugged. "Neither did I."

The boy smirked and bent down, reading her name tag carefully. "Well," he paused and gave Trud a raised eyebrow, "Isn't Gertrude an old lady's name?"

"My mom was an old fashioned type of girl," she explained quickly and the boy nodded in understanding.

"Well, Rudy," he emphasized her name as he started walking backwards towards the door. "I fear I must leave you to your own devices," He placed a hand over his heart dramatically, "I know that you, fair lady, are heartbroken at this time, but please don't fret. Know that I shall come back for you one day," he paused, "-eth."

A few of the other patrons seated around them watched on in amusement as the boy gave Trud a final wave before turning on his heel and walked out the front door. She watched him through the large window, a little surprised when he stopped in front of a large black Hummer. He unlocked the door as he pulled out his cell phone and climbed in. A few moments later the boy pulled out of the parking lot and disappeared down the road. She stared out the window for a few moments longer, shook her head, and looked back down at the list before her. She still had a few minutes left of her lunch break anyway.

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**Comments, reviews, and constructive critism are all welcomed and taken into consideration. Thanks for your support.**

**Posted: _091208_  
Original Word Count: _2857_  
Revised Word Count: _4218_**


	2. Chapter 2: Darling Nicotine

This is the **revised** version of a previously posted story of mine, Speeding Cars. Sorry it took so long to update, I'll be trying harder to produce new chapters quicker from now on.  


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**Everything that you may recognize from the movie or otherwise does not belong to me.  
Trud, Imogen, Nate, Wes, Robert, and Marilyn are creations of my imagination. I'd rather like to keep it that way.

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**

**1. Darling Nicotine**

_Just because you see an orange stake, doesn't mean you should hit the brakes and stop.  
Trust yourself and follow your clues._

"I need coffee," Trud said, as she slumped onto a swiveling stool at the front counter, looking at her friend pathetically. She'd gotten off work three hours ago and had spent her 'free time' grocery shopping. Apparently, you needed food to live and her house was completely void of the stuff. Getting hit on by the geeky cashier and not being able to find the Twinkies made her afternoon less than pleasant. She needed some damn coffee and a cigarette. Or at least if she was a smoker, she'd need a damn cigarette.

Imogen stared at the distressed girl through a curtain of red hair and shook her head, picking up a cup from beneath the counter and filled it with hot water. Trud looked at the ceramic cup in disgust as a tea bag was dropped into it, turning the clear water murky almost instantly.

"What the hell is this?" she asked, lifting up the odd smelling concoction in fear. Tea was most definitely _not _coffee. Tea didn't even have caffeine! Had Imogen not been listening to her pitiful moans caused by caffeine withdrawals? Did she not have an ounce of sympathy inside her cold, black heart?!

"Herbal tea, you idiot," Imogen said, wiping down the counter with a wet rag. "No caffeine. Doctor's orders."

As she casually continued with her end of shift cleaning, Trud gaped at her friend. She looked down at her 'tea' (she didn't even think the gray water could even be considered tea) in pure disgust and stood up with a sigh. Ignoring her friend's questioning glance, Trud walked around the counter and dumped the tea out into the sink. Picking up a new cup, she filled it with half decaf coffee and grabbed a handful of Hazelnut creamer pods as Imogen watched on in a mix of annoyance and amusement.

"Now, let me explain something to you, Immy. This is a coffee cup," Trud said, sitting back down at her original seat. Starting to unseal her creamer, she looked at Imogen like she was talking to a four year old. "This is what some people may compare to the cradle of little baby Jesus. That is how sacred this cup is, you follow me so far? Good. Inside this cradle of God, the sane people of the world put coffee inside it. They do this because not only is it called a 'coffee cup', but also because coffee is the nectar of the Gods. You don't put tea, the most hated of all drinks, the drink that Satan himself drinks!, inside a coffee cup. You don't do that, ever! _It's just not done_."

There was a stunned silence and Imogen could do nothing more than stare at her. "You do know you're a complete and utter freak, right?"

"I've been told," Trud replied with a shrug.

"I'm just making sure."

"Yep, thanks for that."

"I think you might need to get some professional help. You know, get some pills to make you feel happy all the time? I hear they've got some new experimental ones that really work. Maybe you should look into them?"

Trud looked up from her precious cup of coffee and glared at a smiling Imogen. "Go away."

"You loooooove me," she sang back, smiling at her annoyed friend as she disappeared into the kitchen. Laughter could be heard from behind the swinging doors a few moments later, to which Trud simply shook her head at.

She was the freak? Honestly.

"_Darling Nicotine, you want me back, back, back.  
and everything I want to end, you lack, lack, lacked.  
the feelings that I've felt when I said I needed you,  
but I don't recall that you would ever say it back."_

She pulled out her soft singing phone and paused before flipping it open. Her thumb hovered over the answer button but after gathering enough courage to glance at the caller ID, she quickly punched 'Ignore Call' instead. The screen flashed white with the words 'One missed call' printed across it. Trud sighed and closed her phone, tossing it onto the counter top.

"You can't ignore him forever, you know."

She didn't look up from her coffee. "I can sure as hell try."

Imogen let out a sigh of her own and sat down on the stool beside Trud, a soda in front of her. She was silent for a few moments. "You can't blame all this on him, Trud," she said finally, looking at the younger girl next to her. "He's scared and confused, we all are. He doesn't want to lose you."

"Just because you learn that your girlfriend has terminal cancer doesn't give you the right to sleep with your brother's girlfriend, Im. You know that, I know, hell, even Kitty knows that!"

"Kira."

"What?" Trud faced her with a mixture of anger and confusion.

"Her name's Kira, not Kitty," she corrected quietly. Trud rolled her eyes and gave her an incredulous look.

"I don't care what the hell her name is, I hate both of them, end of story."

"Trud-"

"No, Imogen," she said, cutting her off with a heated stare. "I will never forgive him for what he did. Never. He had sex with his brother's girlfriend, his own brother! How could he possibly do that to Aaron, Aaron of all people! His own fucking brother."

Imogen took a deep breath and shook her head. "I know that you think that Wes is a horrible person, that he's the scum of the world and all that, and I get that, I understand that. Really, I do. But do you really want to end your friendship, a six year friendship might I add, like this? Don't you think that maybe you should forgive him, or at least give him a chance to explain himself? You might actually like what you hear."

"He doesn't deserve to be forgiven. I'm not going to talk to him."

"I think you're making a mistake," Imogen argued softly, shaking her head. "You have to let some things go, let them become history. You can't hold grudges forever Trud."

"Forever isn't that far away for me, now is it?" Trud retorted, taking a huge sip of her coffee as she stood up. She dropped a couple bills on the counter and pulled out her car keys. "I'll see you tomorrow."

There was nothing to be done as she briskly exited the restaurant, leaving her best friend to watch her go. Imogen turned back to her soda as a Mustang tore out of the parking lot and sped down the street. She shook her head and grabbed her glass, ready to finish her last hour of the day.

--

The phone rang three times before a voice answered from the other line, relieving Trud beyond belief. She was already parked outside his dorms, but she really would rather not walk in on something that would scar her poor mind for the rest of her life. She'd somewhat calmed down after her go around with Imogen, but she knew that if she went back to the diner, apologies would be expected. She needed time to think before she talked to again with Imogen, she needed a second opinion.

"What do you want, Johnson?" Nate asked, music playing background to his voice.

"You busy?" she asked, leaning forward in her seat, staring up at his dorm window. She thankful that as usual, he wasn't in class like the rest of his peers. He had a knack for skipping class, in fact, the teacher's actually cried when he did come.

There was some muffled talking, which sounded much like a girl complaining, for a few seconds and what sounded like a door slamming before he answered. "Nope, come on up."

She didn't bother saying goodbye as she hung up and climbed out of the car, locking it behind her. School at Spenser had started last week, but from the looks of the empty campus, you wouldn't be able to tell. She entered Nate's building and bypassed the elevator for the single flight of stairs up to his floor. Once at his door, she didn't bother knocking and let herself in. There were clothes strewn all across the floor, leaving little or no floor uncovered. It looked just the same as it had last time Trud had been over, despite the fact he had only moved in a little over two weeks ago. Men, they were naturally born slobs.

Nate was lying on his bed, arms behind his head, eyes closed. She dropped her bag and keys by the door and took off her shoes on the way over to him. The television had Family Guy playing on it, but it was apparent by his lack of shirt and the girl's voice before, it hadn't been the center of attention.

"Sorry I crashed your date," she muttered, climbing onto the bed beside him and pulling his arm up, letting it drop onto her shoulder. "You didn't have to kick her out for me."

"Yes, I did," Nate muttered back, pulling her to his side protectively. "Bros before hos. Except, not, since you're a girl and all."

Trud laughed and closed her eyes with a sigh. "Thanks for noticing that small factor after all these years, Nate."

He snorted in return. "It's kinda hard to miss."

She smacked him on the chest without hurting him as they fell silent. It felt nice, the silence. Listening to the idiocy of Family Guy with one of her best friends, not having to say anything or talk, it was nice. Silence was nice. It didn't require her to give anything or ask for anything in return. It was a comfort, silence was. And it seemed that only Nate was the one willing to give it to her.

They lay together on his bed, eyes closed, mouths shut, listening to the television in silence for what seemed like forever until her phone rang, jolting them both back into reality.

"You gonna answer that?"

Trud stared at her flashing phone from across the room where it had fallen out of her bag. It was playing the same song as that morning and she didn't need to look at the ID to know who it was.

"No," she answered softly, falling back onto the bed and shutting her eyes. "It's nothing important."

Nate didn't say anything for a few seconds before he sat up and looked down at her. "How many times has he called you today?"

She shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "Twice."

"You answer the first time?"

She shook her head.

"Trud," he sighed, laying back beside her as he phone beeped, signaling a new voicemail. "You have to talk to him. You at least owe it to yourself to let him apologize before giving him a kick to the balls."

"I don't want to talk to him," she mumbled stubbornly, crossing her arms across her chest.

Nate laughed and turned his head to look at her. "You have to eventually. You have the right to move on from that asshole, and the only way you're going to let yourself is if you talk to him. You need to know what happened from him, you deserve to know the truth."

"You think I should forgive him?" Trud asked, uncrossing her arms as she turned on her side to face him.

He scoffed and frowned. "Hell no. I was serious about the ball kicking."

--

An hour later, Trud was back at Denny's, sitting in her earlier vacated seat, drinking another cup of decaf coffee. Nate had kicked her out a little after their conversation, mentioning a game of pool he was going to be late for and practically pushed her out the door. She'd driven around town for a while before finally parking her car in Denny's lot. Imogen was due to get off any time, but she hadn't seen her out on the floor yet.

The door dinged and she turned around in curiosity, surprised to see the blond from earlier walking towards her. She looked at the uniform he was wearing in equal surprise. No wonder he'd left a nice tip earlier, he was living off of a trust fund. Spencer was the only private school around Ipswich and the only kids who could afford to go there were families with old money. She'd heard a few select getting scholarships, but for the most part, every Spencer kid had rich Mommies and Daddies, like Nate's.

With a sigh, Blondie sat down beside Trud and loosened his tie in annoyance. "What the hell are you laughing at, Rudy?"

"Didn't take you for a private school type of guy," She said casually, taking a sip of her coffee and motioned towards his uniform with a wave of her hand.

"Don't insult the uniform, Babe," he said seriously, glancing at a menu distractedly. "Chicks love a man in uniform."

She patted the boy on the shoulder comfortingly. "Sure they do."

Blondie wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, "Oh, they do. Trust me."

"I'll take your word for it," Trud promised, flipping a page of the newspaper on the counter in front of her. He just smirked. "How was school?"

He stiffened but shrugged his shoulders casually, "You're not missing anything by dropping out," he said with a half sour face.

Trud just laughed, not bothering to tell him that she'd rather be in school than work full time. Before dropping out, school had been her life. She'd been hoping to go to William and Mary one day and get a teaching degree, but that dream was long gone. Family came first though, and it wasn't like the rent was going to pay itself. It angered her, of course. She was the kid, not her dad. She was the one who was supposed to be enjoying her last years of high school, worrying about getting a date to prom, and finishing her English project on time, not about what hours she was going to have to work in order to make ends meet at home. No, she'd take high school over her life any day.

Boy's phone rang, or rather vibrated, and he let out a curse at the caller ID. Flipping it open he gave Trud a pleading look. "Can you get me a coffee?" He grinned a thank you when she nodded her head and turned back to his phone.

"What?"

She was surprised to hear his voice had gone cold and almost harsh. She studied his face, seeing that even his eyes looked different while he was talking to the person on the other line. He didn't seem like the boy from lunch, the one worrying about cinnamon on his French Toast, but she couldn't be one to judge. It wasn't like she knew him.

She jumped down from her stool and walked around the counter, trying not to listen to Boy's conversation. Though, it was a difficult seeing as he wasn't trying to keep his voice down and he _was_ right in front of her. She filled out a green cup full of coffee and started back towards Boy. Really, she wasn't _trying_ to eavesdrop.

"Why the hell you always gotta think it's me?" he yelled in a hushed voice. "Ever think that maybe it was Baby Boy? Or, imagine this, your best buddy Pogue?" Boy gave a smirk and Trud could hear the deft yelling come the other side of his phone as she sat back down next to him. Boy gave a heaving sigh and leaned his head down on the counter, arm outstretched.

She placed the coffee cup in front of the still arguing boy. He sat up and put the phone in front of him, almost yelling into it. "For fuck's sake, Caleb, it wasn't me!" Boy turned towards Trud with a scowl but mouthed another thank-you to her, taking a sip of his coffee. "School, man! And with Rudy after that!"

Trud's head perked up at the sound of her name as Boy continued arguing, returning the phone to his ear. "Dude, don't have a fucking shit-fit. I'll be there when I get there." Finally, Boy hung up his phone and she smirked at the sounds of the person on the other line still talking as his phone flipped shut. He took a sip of his coffee, a content look coming over his face as he did so.

"If I turn up dead tomorrow," Blondie said, eyes closed, "It was Caleb Danvers who did it."

"Trouble in paradise?" she inquired, eying his coffee intently. He dropped his head onto the counter with a sigh. It was too easy. She glanced around the diner, looking for any signs of Imogen as Boy shook his head. God, way too damn easy. Like stealing candy from a baby. He didn't seem to notice when Trud darted her hand out, snatching up his coffee cup. The _real_ coffee, no decaf puddle shit stuff, the actual stuff with _caffeine_. God's holy nectar.

"Just dumb ass friends," he said finally opening his eyes and sitting up again, only to see Trud with his coffee in her hand, a goofy grin on her face. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked in amusement. "You do have your own, you know."

"But it's _decaf_, the hated love child of coffee and death!" She whined as the boy gently took back his cup. Boy laughed at her reference to her decaf coffee.

"You're a freak, you know that?"

"You're the second one to tell me that today, actually."

"Good, had to make sure someone had," Boy said, sliding his coffee down to her with a laugh. Trud nearly a squealed in delight and was about to take another sip when the swinging door opened, revealing Imogen.

"Gertrude Anne Johnson!" she screeched, making both Trud and Boy to wince at the high pitch. "You put down that cup, right now!" Imogen walked forward, grabbing the cup from a shocked Trud and looked at a confused Boy furiously. "Did you give her this?" she demanded, thrusting the cup under his nose.

"Uhm, no?" he answered unsurely, honestly unsure of what to say to the angry red head.

"It wasn't his fault," Trud defended. "I asked for it." As the words came out of her mouth, Trud knew it wasn't exactly going to have the calming affect on Imogen as she'd hoped. The words 'oh' and 'shit' came to mind as she caught sight of her friend's devastated face. "Im-"

"You really want to die, don't you?" she asked, her voice laced with pain.

Trud looked at her friend in complete shock and didn't have a chance to reply as her phone suddenly rang. She looked at Imogen pleadingly but she just shook her head and walked back through the swinging doors without a word.

"What's going on?" Blondie asked, concern evident as Trud started ripping through her bag in an attempt to find her phone. It wasn't playing the same song as it had been the previous two times it had rung.

"Hello?" Trud asked, somewhat thick. Boy watched her on the phone and noticed how her face fell when the person on the other line started talking.

"Where the hell are you?"

Trud sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Hi, Dad."

"Get your ass home, now," his voice was angry and more than likely drunk, again. He slammed his phone down and Trud flipped her phone closed gently. She turned and bent down to pick up her bag, pulling out her car keys.

"I have to go," she announced, looking at Boy with tired eyes. He nodded his head, not asking about the phone call, much to her relief. She looked up from her bag, keys in hand, staring at Boy in confusion. He gave her an odd look, questioningly.

"What?"

She snorted and pulled a stray bang behind her ear, staring at him. "I don't know your name."

Boy laughed and reached out his hand, coffee cup glued to the other. "I'm Reid Garwin," he, said with a growing smirk.

Trud took his hand with smile, shaking it quickly. It was warm. "Nice to meet you Reid," she said, walking backwards towards the door. "I'll see you around."

He nodded after her as she walked out of the diner for the second time that day.

--

Pulling her car into the small gravel driveway that led to her less-than-great home, Trud let out a deep sigh. She twisted her keys from the ignition and sat, debating which would be worse: going in or making a mad run for it back into town. Neither were very bright ideas on her part. Imogen would be getting off soon, but after what had happened with the coffee cup, Trud doubted she'd be welcome at the moment. Nate had bedroom checks at eleven every night and the dorm advisor's had caught her enough times to know her by name. Besides, the longer she avoided going home, the worse it would be when she did go back.

Just as she was about to restart her car and take the risk of getting caught at Nate's again, she saw the curtain in the family room window move, revealing a flash of her father's stocky stature. She winced, there was no reason to try and make a break for it now, not when he'd already seen her.

She took her sweet time gathering her things from the Mustang, even picking up some week old garbage to buy herself time. After five minutes of picking random things up in her car, making it almost halfway clean, Trud figured she didn't have much more time before her dad came out and physically forced her into the house. Grabbing a last candy wrapper off the floor and slinging the grocery bags from earlier over one arm, she headed towards the front door, kicking her car door shut with her foot.

Somehow she was able to fish her keys from her pocket and unlock the front door, having to lift it up on its hinges slightly to be able to slide the lock back. One of the luxuries of having a crap ass shack for a home. There was nothing at all nice about her home, not in the slightest. Doors were missing from rooms, windows were cracked, and the floors always creaked. It wouldn't surprise Trud in the least if the people living in it before her had made it into a crack house. It would definitely explain a few things. Slamming the door behind her, she dropped her bag on the floor and slipped off her shoes. Carefully, she started down the front hall, leaving the grocery bags on a table next to the closet.

"Dad?" she called out, surprised not to see him in front of the television in the den. Walking further into the house, she found her dad sitting at the kitchen table, looking through the mail. "Hey, Dad," Trud said tentatively, not walking into the kitchen, instead leaning against the door frame, leaving distance between herself and her dad.

"You're late," Robert said, not looking up from the mail, dividing it up between the things for himself and Gertrude.

"I had to work today," she explained, though remembered having the same conversation with him the day before. It was always the same, everyday. The only thing that changed was his reaction, which all depended on how much he'd had to drink before she got home. By the smell that was wafting towards her, Gertrude guessed things weren't going to go as well as she'd hoped.

"You worked yesterday."

she shrugged, even though her dad didn't see it. "Sam was sick yesterday, so I took his shift. I didn't think you'd mind if I picked up a few extra hours. We could really use the extra money."

"You were late today."

She squirmed, his voice was getting tenser already. "We needed food. I got you some salami," she tried with a hopeful smile. "I know how you like salami."

Her dad slammed his fist on the rickety table, sending letters to the floor as Gertrude winced and jumped. "I don't care about god damn deli meat!" He stood up, taking a few steps towards her menacingly. She involuntarily stepped backwards and into the hallway. "Paul and I are going out for a few drinks. When I get back, this house had better be spotless," he pointed a chubby finger at her, a serious look on his already drunk face. "I mean that, fucking spotless. You got that, Marilyn?"

So, maybe he'd had a few more to drink than she'd originally thought.

"Gertrude," she mumbled in correction, looking at the floor.

He glared at her in anger. "What was that, whore?"

"Nothing, Dad. I'll have the house clean by the time you get back with Paul," she said softly as he brushed past her, fumbling to get his coat from the rack. He said nothing else to her before walking out the door, slamming it behind him. His heavy footsteps sounded on the front porch and she heard a car pull up and then a door shut.

She let out a sigh, leaning against the door way heavily. Glancing around the dirty kitchen and laundry room, Trud realized how much cleaning she had to do before her dad came home. Looking at the clock, reading 5:36. She guessed that around eight hours was all the time she would get before he came home. Hopefully, if she didn't get all of it done, he would be too drunk to notice.

Hopefully.

--

Three hours later, Trud fell onto her couch with a heavy groan. All around her were clean floors and dusted counter tops. The entire Crack House, as she so very 'affectionately' called it, was clean. Spotless, to be exact. She had even caught up on all the laundry and cleaned out the fridge, which had been in desperate need of new food. It hadn't been nearly as hard as she had thought, and hadn't taken much time. It was only just nearing nine o'clock. She was goddamn Cinderella.

Surfing through the channels on the small television, Trud finally settled on _Scrubs_. The show always made her laugh, not to mention that Turk was freaking hot when he played Pete in _Remember the Titans_. Guys in uniform, at least most of them, always got to her. Don't ask why, it was just one her things. Imogen happened to like any boy with green eyes, as in, _any_ boy. She wouldn't care if he had man boobs and a bad case of acne so long as he had _green_ eyes. Really, she wouldn't.

Trud was brought out of her _Scrubs _worship hour when her phone started ringing, again. She was going to throw the damn thing out a window someday. She leaped off the couch and dashed down the hall, fumbling to get her phone out of her bag before it ceased to ring. Letting out a ha! of triumph, Trud flipped it open and put it to her ear.

"Hello?" she asked, sliding down the length of the front door, leaning her back against it as she sat on the hall floor.

"Hey Babe," a voice answered from the other line. Trud could hear music blasting in the background, but didn't know why Reid, of all people, was calling her. Or how he got her number for that matter. "Imogen gave me your number," he said, reading her mind. Quite a feat, seeing the distance between them.

Sarcasm, a wonderful thing that kept the world turning.

"What's up Reid?"

The music faded away slightly as she heard his feet crunching on leaves, or at least, that's what she guessed. Either that or he was doing something very weird. "I'm at a party," he yelled, apparently thinking she wouldn't be able to hear him over the blasting music.

She let out a snort and turned her head to look at the clock on the hall table. "You stalked my best friend for my number just to call and tell me that? I feel honored. I think."

"You should," he said and Trud could almost hear his smirk over the line. A door opened on his end and the music disappeared. "You doing anything tonight?"

Smooth, Mr. Smoothie McSmooth.

He couldn't be serious. "I'm not coming over," Trud stated, standing up and walking down her hall. Parties weren't her thing. Especially now, her being a drop out and all didn't sit well with much of the 'popular crowd'. More than likely Reid was out partying with a bunch of private school kids with cash to blow and kegs to drink. Most definitely _not_ her scene. It hadn't even been her scene during high school, no way in hell was she diving into the snake pit now.

"C'mon, Rudy!" Reid whined, reminding her of a whiny five year old. "Please? I'm surrounded by bimbos and jocks. You have to save me! I'm begging you!"

Trud laughed at his childish voice but refused to give in. "No."

"Please?"

"No. Nope. Neva!"

There was a pause on the other end of the line before he let out an almost eerily evil chuckle. "I'll buy you coffee tomorrow."

Low blow, Garwin. Absolutely **LOW. **And remarkably smart for a rich trust fund kid.

Trud debated. Was coffee really worth a night of partying with Reid and other such rich kids? Coffee. Snakes. Coffee.. mmm, coffee.

Hell yes.

"Where are you?"

Reid laughed. "I'll pick you up in ten minutes."

He hung up the phone before Trud could say anything. She closed her phone with a sigh, not even going to question how Reid knew where she lived. Jumping to her feet, she sprinted up the stairs, proceeding to tear apart her closet in attempts to find something decent to wear.

Eight minutes and counting. Into the snake pit we go, kiddies.

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**Comments, reviews, and constructive critism are all welcomed and taken into consideration. Thanks for your support.**

**Posted: **_**110608  
**_**Original Word Count: **_**3000  
**_**Revised Word Count: **_**5003**_


	3. Chapter 3: After Hours

This is the **revised** version of a previously posted story of mine, Speeding Cars. Sorry it took so long to update, life got in the way for a bit. Damn you, life. Promise to update sooner next time.

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**Everything that you may recognize from the movie or otherwise does not belong to me.****  
Trud, Imogen, Nate, Wes, Robert, and Marilyn are creations of my imagination. I'd rather like to keep it that way.**

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**3. After Hours**

_Smart people don't run. Smart people walk and blend into a crowd.  
Stupid people think they can run like hell and not be noticed. Stupid people._

The once clean floor of her bedroom, which Trud had spent an hour cleaning, was now covered with heaps of clothing. None of which were clothes she could wear to the party with Reid. Glancing at the clock, she saw that even though Reid was late, she was still in a purple tank and her striped boxer shorts. Granted, they were amazing shorts and she didn't look half bad in them, but she didn't exactly want to go to a party with a rather nice looking guy looking like she was at a pre-teen slumber party. She looked at the clock again and resisted the urge to swear. She didn't resist very well.

Running down the stairs at top speed, Trud dug through her bag and pulled out her phone with a triumphant yell. Hitting speed dial, she tapped her bare foot on the cold floor, waiting for Imogen to pick up. She knew that Imogen was probably still mad at her, but desperate times called for desperate measures (example: such as calling your best friend to find the perfect outfit to go party with rich-prep-school-boy, despite having a semi-huge fight earlier in the day). It was a best friend thing, love hate relationship to the extreme.

"Hello?" her voice was groggy and Trud winced at remembering that Imogen had to open in the morning. Getting up at four to make it on time by five always meant going to bed around nine, Trud sometimes even crashed around eight. They'd both found out early on that working on only a couple hours worth of sleep wasn't worth it.

"This is: Trud, calling her best friend: Imogen for much needed help."

Trud spoke in a rush taking her steps two at a time and walked back into her room. She trekked through the piles of clothes on the floor and stood in the middle of them, waiting for almighty advice. "Reid is coming to pick me up for a party ten minutes ago and I have nothing to wear. Nothing. To. Wear. At all! Help meeee! Tell me what to wear Im! Heeeeeeeelp," She was whining annoyingly and over dramatic to the eighth dimension, but it was just so much fun to do.

"What the hell are you talking about, you annoying prat?" Imogen groaned into the phone. She was probably wishing she hadn't picked up her phone in the first place. "All I heard from that was 'I'm a whiny bitch, heeeeeeeeeelp!'"

"I have nothing to wear!" Trud yelled, falling into her pile of clothes on the floor.

She found her current state pathetic. Never before had she had to worry about what she was going to wear to a party. Not that during her high school career she'd been to many, but she normally just showed up in whatever she was wearing. No one had ever cared what she looked like before. She was always the wall flower in the background that was a killjoy for refusing to drink. She was the one who stood at the back of the room, laughing at the idiots who thought they were drunk enough to fly off a balcony and normally leaving soon after the trouble started.

Parties weren't her idea of a fun time. But then again, Trud never had the hot bad boy to take her when she'd gone to parties before. That had always been the 'other girl' at the party, the one in the thick of things, the one living it up with a red plastic cup in hand. When Reid had offered her the chance to be on the other side of the party life, she couldn't help but secretly be excited. She had a year left to do a billion things before she was gone. One harmless beer fest wouldn't change that, just knock another thing off her list.

However, she wouldn't complain about showing up at said beer fest looking a little nicer. Or stunning, or hot, or gorgeous. Take your pick of adjectives.

"Wear your red checkered shirt with a white lacy thing underneath. Jeans would look fine with that or that denim skirt we bought you ages ago that you have yet to wear..," Imogen trailed off intentionally and it didn't take long for Trud to get her drift.

The 'white lacy thing' was a very nice description of about three different shirts that were strewn around her room and she decided to wear the first one she saw. The jean skirt, which she and Imogen had bought on sale at Macy's two years earlier, was lying in plain sight on her bed and she took it as a sign of fate. It was a modest length while still escaping the title of Prude. Prude was bad when going to prep school party with their resident Bad Boy. 'Checkered shirt' was sighted by the desk and as Trud picked it up, she thanked her tired friend.

"You're my hero, Immy," she said while pulling off her shorts and slipped on the skirt.

"I know," the girl replied with a short yawn. "Good luck tonight."

The call ended and the phone got thrown onto the bed carelessly. So, maybe Imogen wasn't still completely mad at her for the coffee incident. Granted, Trud had called while she was impaired, but still.. she looked in the mirror and was happy with her appearance. If Imogen had been pissed still, she'd look like hooker or worse, a clown. And there was neither clown nor hooker staring back at her in the mirror.

Score.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang just as Trud was ripping one shirt off over her head and putting on the 'white lacy thing'. She ran down the stairs with heavy feet and opened the front door, 'checkered shirt' still needing to be button up. Reid stood there, one arm on the door frame with the rest of him leaning on it. He wore a loose dark blue shirt, jeans, and his black shoes from earlier. It didn't surprise her in the least to see his fingerless gloves intact on his hands.

"You're late," she announced, motioning him in with a jerk of her head.

Reid straightened up and walked in. He took in her bare feet and the shirt she just finished pulling on. "Good thing too. Looks like you needed it."

He smirked that annoying smirk that she was beginning to believe had a permanent reservation on his face. She wanted to slap it off. She glared at him and walked up the broken stairs to her room. "Not like you gave me a whole lot of time to get ready." Actually, she was quite proud of her abilities. Most girls would take an hour to get ready but being the amazing girl she was, Trud had only taken around ten. Take that, ho.

"Pressure's good for you," Reid called up with a laugh while he waited by the door.

She slipped on a pair of green socks and slid down the short hall. She hesitated at the top of the stairs and walked back to her room. She grabbed her Denny's shirt and apron off her desk chair, just in case. Bouncing down the stairs she kicked her shoes off one of the steps. She sat on the bottom step and looked up at him while pulling them on. "So where's this party?"

Reid shrugged, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "Just some girl's house. It's a birthday party for my friend's girlfriend's best friend's cousin, if you _must _know."

"I'm seriously debating if you're being serious," she stated and stood up.

The smirk flew back to his face. "Baby, I'm always serious."

Trud rolled her eyes at him and spread open her arms. "This look alright for your kind of shindig?"

It was Reid's turn to roll his eyes. "I don't understand why girl's take so long to get ready when they know everything's coming off later. Seems like a waste of time to me."

She laughed lightly at that, such a teenage boy thing to say. "Sorry to disappoint you, Reid, but this girl plans to keep her clothes _on_ for the night. I'm sorry to burst your bubble."

"Not my bubble your bursting," Reid muttered back, smirk firmly in place. Trud looked at him shocked, unsure whether to slap him for being a pervert or laugh at how much she sounded like Nate. She went with laughing and a gentle pat on the cheek.

"You'll survive, I'm sure," she said, shaking her head and chuckling as she walked down the hall. She grabbed her bag from the closet and stuffed her Denny's shirt and apron inside. After checking a mental list, Trud figured it was time to get the show on the road. "You all ready?" she called down the hall.

"Whenever you are," he replied.

"Alright, let's move," Trud said, opening up her front door and waited for him to leave so she could lock the door. She knew her dad didn't have a key to open it but she couldn't find the time to care. It was his own fault for going out to get drunk in the first place. And it wasn't like he'd be sober enough to open the door when he got home anyway.

She walked down the crooked front steps and stopped short at the sight of the huge black Hummer parked behind her tiny mustang. "What the hell is that?" Trud asked pointing at the huge piece of metal that Reid was headed towards. He laughed and pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and motioned for her to hurry up.

"This would be a Hummer, Rudy," he said, opening the passenger side door for her. She scampered inside in excitement. He just smirked at her childlike reaction and closed the door for her. He walked over to driver's side and climbed in, turning on the huge beast of a car as he did so.

"This is so freaking cool!" Trud said excitedly, only a few minutes later. They were speeding down the road, Reid going almost twenty miles over the speed limit, and Trud had to admit that the Hummer was nice. For a gas guzzling, environment killing, ice melting, huge piece of scrap metal, it was nice. Big seats, the height that gave you the illusion of being on top of the world, and a rather nice looking driver. (not included with the average vehicle)

Reid shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. "You're so easy to please."

Trud looked at him with a smile. "It's a curse, I know."

She reached forward and turned on the Sirius radio panel and her eyes lit up. Quickly, ignoring Reid's smirking, she scrolled through the channels and landed on a dance club station. She had no idea what was playing or who mixed it, but it sent bass thumping through the Hummer. They settled for listening to music for the short ride to the party and Trud didn't complain. They reached the party in record time, probably due to Reid's knack for speeding and she couldn't help but be awed by the house he had parked in front of.

"Ohmygod."

Yes, she was turning into a Valley Girl already.

She leaned forward in her seat to get a better look at the house (mansion) and wished she hadn't. It was huge, absolutely monstrous, with preppy high school kids pouring out of the front double doors onto the humongous lawn outside. This had _not_ been a good idea. The place was a death trap to kids like her. Kids who had no money, no lawyer or doctorial parents, no future in the business would, or even a future in her case did not go to parties in CASTLES. And that was exactly where Reid had brought her to.

A castle where rich kids came to die and decided to bring the little poor girl down with them.

She was screwed.

"You look scared."

Reid's voice broke through her mental freak-out and she turned away from the lethal castle to see him standing beside her with the door open politely. There was no smirk on his face now but more of a questioning confusion. It was like he didn't understand how out of place she would be or how the other girls would stare and whisper about her or how she couldn't think tonight would be fun. It was like they were from different worlds but for once, Trud didn't have Imogen beside her to make fun of people. She was an idiot. A very naïve idiot. But, it was too late now.

She put on a fake smile that she hoped would convince him and shook her head. "Why would I be scared?"

He stared at her a moment later and shrugged. "No clue, tonight's gonna be a blast."

A blast. Hah, yeah. Riiiiiight.

She let out a sigh, "You had better give me some goddamn good coffee, Reid," she told him seriously.

"The best you've ever had," he promised. Trud ignored the suggestive smirk that was back and finally unbuckled her seatbelt. She slid down from the huge Hummer and straightened her outfit while Reid closed her door. Taking a deep breath, she grinned at him and took the arm he offered. Together they walked down the paved driveway towards where the hordes of drunk teenagers awaited them.

As Reid steered them closer to the front doors, he dropped her arm and grabbed her hand instead. It was warm and comforting to Trud as he inadvertently led her into Hell. The music, which happened to rappy hip hop and the scorn of all music, hit them full force as Reid led her into the throng of people. Hot and sweaty bodies rubbed against her as they pushed their way through. Reid kept a hold on her hand as he navigated his way skillfully through the grinding teens. Looking at the number of high school kids in the suddenly small and compact house, Trud guessed everyone from his school had showed up.

Oh, joy.

"That's Aaron Abbot," Reid yelled over the pounding music, pointing a finger to a tall boy with curly hair and a letter jacket on who was standing with a red head in the corner. Aaron, and he was with Kira. "He's a jackass; treats girls like shit. Stay away from him," Reid warned.

She took one look at Aaron and looked away. Of course they would be here, they went to Spencer. She cursed herself mentally for missing another key reason why she shouldn't have accepted Reid's invitation. She didn't want to think about who else may be hiding in the crowd, who else she didn't want to see any time soon. She was a crappy planner, it was no wonder the List had yet to be finished.

Reid led them down a hall and into a darker room that held a pool table. The music was different, more indie than down and dirty, much to Trud's relief. The whole rap 'yo, I'ma gansta' didn't exactly qualify itself as actual music. More like people doing beat box, badly, and attempting to rhyme but failing oh so miserably at it. Mute Math came on over the speakers that were positioned in the corners of the large room and she thanked whoever was in control of the music. Anything but rap..

"You any good at pool?" Reid asked, leading her to where a tall boy with dark hair was playing against two others. The dark haired boy grinned at the sight of him and abandoned the pool table to make his way over to them. Reid released Trud's hand and did the whole 'manly hand/hug' thing with his friend. For being "manly" men sure liked to hug or during sports, what was with the constant butt slapping? Trud had never really understood how that worked and so far, no one had been able to explain it.

"Where the hell did you go?" the boy asked Reid. He apparently did not see Trud standing in Reid's taller shadow.

She looked around the room for a moment and came back to see Reid and his friend watching her, amused looks on both their faces. Her face flushed a faint pink when Reid smirked. "Hi," she said, sticking out her hand for the other boy, "I'm Trud."

He took her hand, gently shaking it with a bright smile. "Tyler Simms."

She hadn't noticed it before when alone with Reid, but both he and Tyler could be in toothpaste commercials. Blinding teeth, the both of 'em. She watched as the two boys walked towards the pool table and opted to hang back and look around the room more. Though, she couldn't help but notice that toothpaste wasn't the only thing they could model as she watched them walk away. Daaang.

"See something you like, babe?" Reid asked, breaking Trud's train of thought as she was once again caught spacing that night. His stupid god damned smirk was back. Again. Ass.

Trud shook her head with a smirk of her own and walked towards the table slowly. "I think I'm good."

He shrugged his shoulders, picking up a pool stick from the rack. "Your loss, darling."

"I'll keep that in mind," Trud said laughing.

She jumped onto the pool table, sitting on the edge of it while Reid and Tyler played against two other boys around Reid's age. Tyler looked younger, probably closer to her age. She'd just turned seventeen three weeks ago, officially making her two years younger than Imogen, much to her displeasure. Though it did finally give her to freedom to go to R rated movies without having to pass Im off as her mom.

"You're kind of in the way, Rudy," Reid said coming around the edge of the pool table, motioning his hand towards the cue ball that was resting behind her.

She jumped down with a sigh as Reid bent over to hit the ball. With a smile, she leaned over, putting her mouth next to his ear. "Don't miss," she said softly. Childishly, she poked him in the side before pulling away, a little depressed when Reid made the shot. He smirked at her as he walked back over to where Tyler was on the other side of the table.

"Nice try."

Trud shrugged her shoulders and snapped her fingers dramatically. She needed to get her womanly wiles up to par, apparently. "Oh, damn."

Reid just shook his head and went back to his pool game. She looked around the room again, and didn't see anything of great entertainment besides the couple in the corner. Glancing back she saw Reid, still involved with his game, and she decided to go investigate the rest of the house. Yes, stupid plan since she was trying to avoid certain people, but she was at a potentially life threatening party. She at least had to see the rest of the castle before being eaten alive by the sharks.

It seemed like the room had gotten smaller in her absence, or maybe it was just that more people were jammed into it. She had to elbow her way through the crowd to get to the stairs. She climbed over a few couples that thought the stairs would be a perfect make out place and searched through the people for any familiar faces. While she was avoiding Aaron and his person, Trud wouldn't complain to meeting up with Nate or any of his friends.

However, after searching much of the upstairs and the main room below, she found no one she knew and decided to head back to Reid and Tyler. The worst that would happen tonight was that Reid would realize how much of a failure she was at pool and that would be the end of potentially deadly night. No harm, no foul. She'd be home and safe in bed in no time. She turned around to go back towards the stairs and stopped short, coming face to face with a chest. A fairly large, rock hard, 'I am a wall!' short of chest. Looking up, Trud groaned.

Aaron stared down at her, part in confusion another in happiness at seeing her. "Ruds?" he asked as a smile started coming onto his suddenly young face. "What the fuck are you doing here? Did you and-"

"No!" Trud yelled, completely cutting him off from finishing his all too excited question. She knew what he was going to ask and put an immediate stop to it. She held up a hand and closed her eyes slowly. "No, no, noooo," she laughed in a nervous way and looked anywhere except her ex-boyfriend's brother's eyes. "We're not back together, Aaron. Nor are we going to any time soon. I came here with a friend."

"A friend?" Aaron asked, looking confused now more than anything. "Who, Nate? I didn't see him downstairs."

"No, not Nate," she said, moving past him to continue towards the stairs. She needed to get away from Aaron before someone came looking for him and saw her. She needed to get back to Reid and Tyler and have a stupid game of pool. She needed a drink. After descending the stairs, she grabbed the first red cup she saw and chugged it, ignoring the alarmed look Aaron gave her.

"If you aren't here with Nate, then who did you come with?" he asked, too nosy for his own good.

Trud didn't answer until the last drop of beer had been consumed from the cup and she set it back where she found it. "Reid, Reid Garwin. He came into work the other day and called me tonight, complaining about being bored. Didn't have anything better to do, so I came."

He stared at her, emotion now completely gone. "You hate parties, Ruds. And Garwin is a fucking faggot."

She frowned back at him. "I don't hate them and he isn't that horrible."

He nodded. "Yeah, you do. You hate them with burning passions. Remember when you ranted to Kira about how only whores and sluts went to parties to get drunk and gang banged? You hate parties."

"Well, still. I came, I'm here, and now I'm walking away from you," she said in a childish manner, even throwing in a few headshakes and "So there!" looks. Of course he would remember that, annoying bastard. And in Kira's case, what she had said had been true.

He called after her as she quickly turned and lost herself in the still growing crowd. She didn't turn around to look if he was following her but she hoped he wouldn't try to. Aaron thought they were alike and how what had happened somehow brought them together. The fact that Wes would do something so horrible to the two people he supposedly loved most in the world was supposed to be some sort of "bonding" experience between the two of them, the two scorned in Wes's decision to sleep with Kira. But Trud wouldn't let herself grow attached to Aaron. She knew how it worked.

Wes was family and while Aaron hated him for sleeping with his girlfriend, he had already forgiven the little bastard. Just because he and Trud had been brought together by being shit on by life and Wes, she was still his little brother's ex when it all came down to it. Therefore, Aaron would always be her ex's older brother who dated a whore. They were past acquaintances and nothing more.

Trud was almost back to the room where Reid and Tyler were playing pool, in fact she could see them laughing at a bad move on Tyler's part, and she only had a couple feet or so before she got out of the hot and sweaty dance mob. She was almost there, so close to freedom and a care free evening with her new buddy, Reid Garwin, and his hot, toothpaste-selling-smile best friend, Tyler Simms when she felt herself being stopped by an unknown object with a strong grip on her right wrist. She was even smiling when it happened, Tyler's slow motion redo of his failure was funny even from across the room.

She almost got through the night without seeing him.

Her plan had almost worked.

So close.

The smile was jerked from her face as she was held back and she dreaded turning around. She looked at the ground at the same moment Reid turned around, grin on his face to see her frozen in the crowd, Wesley Abbot standing behind her with his arm outstretched. Reid's eyes followed the arm up until the arm turned into a hand and the hand was seen to connected to another person's wrist. Rudy's wrist.

For some unknown reason, Wes Abbot was holding Rudy from getting to him and Tyler.

As Reid set down his pool stick abruptly, he headed towards Abbot with every intention to find out why.

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**Sorry it took so long for an update, once again.  
Reviews make my day.**

**Posted: 032109  
Original Word Count: **_**3261  
**_**Revised Word Count: **_**4171**_


	4. Chapter 4: More Time

This is the **revised** version of a previously posted story of mine, Speeding Cars. I suck at updating at regular intervals, sorry about that. This chapter is a tad different and switches POVs a couple times. I hope it isn't too confusing. I didn't proof read at all, so please let me know if you find any errors and such. Thanks also to everyone who has been reviewing so far and to those who reviewed in the past week or so, you kicked my butt into gear.

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**Anything that you may recognize from the movie or otherwise does not belong to me.  
Trud, Imogen, Nate, Wes, Stanley, Robert, and Marilyn are creations of my imagination. **

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**4. More Time**

_Sometimes, you're an idiot because being smart requires you to face the truth.  
Sometimes, it's nice to be stupid because then it means you don't have a care in the world.  
Sometimes, telling the truth hurts more than telling a lie._

When the doctors tell you that you're at risk for organ failure and really, it's only a matter of time before you keel over dead, you're supposed to be super nice to your body. They figure the less stress you put on yourself, the longer you'll have to live. It's bullshit to the tenth degree because your body is going to do whatever the hell it wants to anyway, but it's supposed to give you hope. I think – I'm honestly not all that sure why they feed you lies in doctors offices. It would be so much easier just to spit out the truth, nice and quick like a band-aid. But they never do. Someday, I'll get lucky and get a doctor who will just give it to me like it is. Maybe. But regardless, I bet you a million bucks that any doctor will tell you that when you're at risk for organ failure, binge drinking is probably the worst possible thing you could do. Your body decides to scream 'Fuck you'.

Turns out it screams pretty loud.

--

I could feel the entire room staring. I could feel Wes's hand on my arm and the skin beneath his prickled. Stupid body, betraying me. I could see Reid trying to deduce what was going on. There was a crowd of people wondering what the hell their golden boy Wesley Abbott was doing chasing after a girl like me – a public girl that no one knew or really cared to. I could feel my insides churning and twisting as I tried to figure out what I was supposed to do. As everyone continued to stare, the music continued to blare (thankfully no one had thought to silence it) and I refused to turn.

I'm a whimp, a coward, a girl with a complete lack of spine that figures if you can't see the problem, it can't really be there. Hence, I refused to turn and look at my problem. I knew he was behind me, standing at six foot one, probably with perfectly tousled dark hair, and those stupid green eyes, he'd be standing there with his perfect clothes and perfect body and perfect words. I'm a sucker for his words, so letting him speak was out of the question.

I could run. I could kick him where it couldn't and run like hell. I could turn and slap him across the face and walk away, head held high with at least a smidgen of dignity left. I could scream and cry and make a huge scene. I could keep silent and act like he didn't exist. I could pretend I had magical skills and turn him into a ferret. I could act mature and look him in the eye. I could be a child and spit in his eye. I could do millions of things to keep myself from having to have a civilized conversation with him.

I think I stood there with my head down, concocting plans in my head for maybe ten seconds until Wes pulled me away and made my decision for me. The soft pressure on my arm alone was enough to make me reconsider all my thoughts. Call me whatever you want – pushover, sap, idiot – and I'm probably exactly what you think I am. Like I said, I'm a complete and utter sucker. No spine anywhere in my stupid-little-girl body.

Wes was my first date, first boyfriend, my first high school dance partner, first kiss, my first _everything._ My older brother Stanley used to be good friends with Aaron, actually they were probably the guy equivalent of best friends. Always hanging out after school since Stan went to public school, hitting on girls, being stupid kids, the normal guy stuff. My dad sent me over to get him one day when he was late for dinner when I was in seventh grade and Wes was the one who opened the door. My little thirteen year old heart was stolen then and there. Our official date was two weeks later. We'd been going on a four year anniversary when I found him and Kira on Aaron's bed a month ago.

And now I was at some stupid prep school party with a guy I'd known for – maybe – twelve hours and trying my hardest to ignore my ex-boyfriend and how much I wanted nothing more to punch him and then kiss him until I couldn't breathe. Neither were probably very good ideas considering. He was just making it very hard to restrain myself.

His voice was quiet, just like it had always been. I could hear him talking to him but I tuned him out, focusing on Reid instead. The blond boy who had showed up at Denny's that morning rambling about cinnamon French toast was standing next to his friend, watching. It looked like he had made to come closer but the crowd of confused rich kids had gotten in his way. It was a little depressing to see him in the crowd and realize how well he fit in, no matter how much he tried not to. He may have dressed differently, acted like a badass, and invited her, a lowlife working double shifts at Denny's by age seventeen, but he was still like all the others when seen in a sea of people.

"Why the hell is everyone standing around?" a girl's shrill voice cut through the tension and sharply brought me back to the present. It was like a shock went through everyone as they realized that they _had _been standing around. The girl who spoke looked pissed with a lopsided birthday crown on her blond head and a boy in tow behind her, anchor to her hand. "This is a birthday party," she whined. I was almost surprised when she didn't stomp her foot.

The word 'party' seemed to bring everyone back to reality and remember the booze waiting to be consumed and almost immediately, we were forgotten. I was thankful for it, it made for a great opportunity to run like hell. It was a good plan with the exception for the death grip on my arm which made running impossible. Still, good plan.

His voice sounded annoyed now but I still refused to focus on what exactly it was he was saying. He was probably complaining about my immaturity, about how I could never confront my problems, and how I could never admit when I was wrong. I'm just guessing at his words since it's normally what he tells me when he gets all serious and uses his "big boy" voice. He used to get even more annoyed when I called it his "big boy" voice and told me to put on my "big girl" pants. We were kind of losers when it came to fighting.

Except I wasn't the one who was wrong this time. He was the one who couldn't keep it in his pants, not me. He was the one who owed me an apology, not the other way around. And even though I was doing a pretty good job of ignoring him, I was almost one hundred percent positive Wes had yet to apologize for banging Ipswich's Most Had Whore. The moment he did apologize, built a time machine, went back to the night he put his penis in Kira's vagina and stopped his past self from doing just that, I would forgive his sorry self and acknowledge him in my presence. But only if he did all that and even then, I'd probably ignore him just out of spite for a few more days.

"You can't ignore me forever," Wes said for the millionth time since he stuck his junk in the wrong trunk. I ceased ignoring him for a moment and shot him a challenging look. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Reid unfreeze and make his way towards us. As I tuned Wes out again, my stomach starting churning in a nasty way and I wondered if you could despise a person so much it made you sick. Probably in Wes's case, God made an exception for me.

When Reid finally reached us with Tyler following behind at a safe distance, Wes was making my stomach very upset. The moment he reached me, an unreadable look on his face, I finally pulled my arm out of Wes's grip, or at least, tried to.

"Don't walk away from me, Gert," Wes said.

I don't think he meant in a menacing way at all, he was just tired of me ignoring him and refusing to listen to his annoying talk. I pulled on my arm again and sent him an almost pleading look. I just wanted to go home and sleep off the hangover I knew was going to come. I knew for sure that when I walked with Aaron I had drank two full red plastic cups of who knew what, and then a few others before Wes had attacked my arm. My stomach hurt, I could feel a hangover coming on, and I'd locked my drunk and angry dad out of my house when I left earlier with Reid. My night sucked enough without stupid Wes making it worse.

"Just, leave me alone, Wes," I told him. My voice sounded pathetic to even me and I mentally hit myself. I didn't need him, not when he'd been so willing to jump into bed with his brother's girlfriend and bang her ten ways to Sunday. I didn't need him and I definitely did not need him thinking that I did.

"Gert-" He said my name like it would somehow change my mind or could change everything that had happened. It didn't. It didn't change a thing.

My stomach felt even worse and when I pulled on my arm again, this time he let go. I didn't say anything to him as I walked to where Reid was silently watching on and didn't turn to look at him again. I felt like I was going to puke. I walked past Reid and hurried outside and made to a bush just in time to empty my stomach onto them. A few seconds later I heard Reid and Tyler beside me and one of them rubbed my back comfortingly. I still don't remember which one it was.

I sat on the pavement next to the bushes (away from my vomit) and closed my eyes. My stomach still hurt, but not nearly as much as it had. Tyler and Reid sat down beside me in silence and I was happy for it. We sat there for what seemed like hours, listening to the music coming from inside the house and watching other drunk kids doing stupid shit on the front lawn. After a while Tyler had to leave, saying something about a curfew to make and with that, he said goodbye and left in the Hummer we had arrived in. I didn't ask how Reid and I were going to get home, I didn't really care that much.

It was nice, just sitting on the pavement in silence. I think Reid wanted to ask me about Wes but I was happy that he didn't. I knew I was overreacting to what had happened, to some extent at least. But I hurt too much inside to care and I wanted Wes to feel at least a fraction of what I had felt when I walked into his room that night. I'd be hoping to talk to him about what was going to happen behind us, to see if there even was an 'us' anymore. Only I walked in to find two naked bodies tangled between his sheets and Kira's bright hair spread on his pillow and his hands hidden from sight. The sight alone was answer enough to her question.

They sat on the concrete until the party seemed to die down, if only slightly, and people started leaving in their cars.

"You ready to go?" Reid asked, watching other kids leaving and screaming as they drove away.

I didn't really know where it was I was going to go. My dad would more than likely be home by now and pissed about being locked out and calling Imogen to crash on her couch this late, again, was out of the question. "Can I crash at your place?"

My mouth hates me. I was going to try and save myself with some lame excuse or come up with something to cover up my blurb, but I didn't get the chance. Reid surprised me by announcing I could since Tyler went home rather than the dorms and I could have his bed for the night, granted that I promised not to snore. I pinkie promised I wouldn't sound like a roaring train and fifteen minutes later, we were pulling into Spencer's student parking lot. It turned out that the guys switched their cars back and we'd ridden back in a sleek silver car I didn't know the name of.

Reid put the car into park and turned it off. My eyes were droopy and he had to nudge me awake. He helped me up the front steps and shot me an amused look when I giggled stupidly when I tripped over my own feet. I was still a little sloshed. He unlocked his door and held it open like a gentlemen for me. The moment I saw a bed, I threw myself on it and was out like a light. I don't even know if I was on the right bed.

--

Throughout the night, Trud had to get up multiple times to empty her stomach into the toilet. Each time, Reid would follow her in, hold her hair, and hand her a towel after before helping her back to bed. He'd then tuck her in, mumble something she never quite understood, and fell back onto his own bed. A few moments later, snoring would be heard from her side of the room. The next morning when he awoke, the girl sleeping in his bed (not Tyler's like they'd planned) was still out cold and he left her in his room to make it to classes on time. He figured he'd let her sleep until lunch and if she was still out by then, he'd skip his afternoon classes to take her home.

He'd gotten dressed, grabbed the books for his morning classes, and closed the door behind him. His eyes fell shut quickly in each of his classes and only having Tyler beside him to cover his tiredness saved him from detention and demerits. Caleb had shot him an annoyed look in the hall but said nothing during their second period British Lit. Tyler had asked him how the night had gone after he'd had to leave and Reid told him the truth. Rudy was plastered and sleeping it off in his room.

He still didn't understand how the girl had managed to get drunk in the ten minutes she'd been gone and could only conclude she was a lightweight to the extreme. Next time, he would have to keep a closer eye on her to ensure the next morning she would be able to remember everything.

When lunch rolled around, Reid left Tyler with the others and made his way across campus to the dorms. He unlocked his door to see Rudy still fast asleep on his bed, looking like she hadn't moved an inch since he'd left her that morning. Sighing, he closed his door and walked over to his bed and promptly threw himself on it. He landed on her for the most part but caught some of his weight with his outstretched arms. He was unprepared, however, for the failing limps and screams that followed his surprise attack. Within seconds he was on the floor, arms thrown up to cover his head against the pillow attacking him.

"Rudy! Rudy, stop hitting me!" he yelled while protecting himself. "Rudy! Put the goddamn pillow down! Rudy!"

She was screaming and hitting him, surprisingly strong for a girl of her size and stature. Finally, Reid managed to crab walk out of her range of pillow hits and held up his hands in surrender. He tried yelling over her and apparently had since she stopped screaming and hitting and turned a very bright red in the face.

"Oh. Hi, Reid," she said, lowering the pillow and sitting back on her heels. "Sorry about that."

Reid just stared at her for a moment before he fell backwards and attempted to regain his air. Swimming was nothing compared to being attacked by a crazed woman, nothing. "I hate you," he said when he managed to breathe normally and his heart stopped trying to beat its way out of his chest.

A smile was his only response.

It was quiet for a few moments longer before Trud suddenly sat up his bed and let loose a stream of unfavorable language that surprised him. He smirked as she continued to cuss a storm up and laughed out loud when she fell in a tangle of sheets when she tried to get out of the bed.

"Stop laughing!" she yelled, pulling herself free of his sheets and quickly got to her feet. "It's noon, Reid! I was supposed to be at work an hour ago! My boss is gonna kill me and turn me into a pig so he can feed my bacon to the customers! _Stop laughing!_"

Reid just sat on the floor, laughing as she pulled on her shoes and wrenched off her top to reveal a tank top for a few moments before a wrinkled Denny's polo was thrown on over it. He watched her in amusement trying to pull on her shoes and frantically run a hand through her tangled bed head. She was most definitely a sight to behold. "You aren't going to be turned into bacon, Rudy," he said, trying to be reassuring. She just shot him a look that proved she didn't believe him for a moment.

When she was done getting ready, which took only a few minutes, Trud strode towards the door, grabbing Reid's arm and pulled him up from the floor as she did. "I need a ride," she said.

"Do I have a choice?" Reid asked as they practically ran from the room. She didn't even give him time to lock the door. A quick Use fixed that as they sped down the hall filled with Spencer kids. He shot Tyler a smirk as they passed him and Rudy even gave him a rushed hello. She was turning out to be more fun than Reid had thought.

--

Imogen looked up from taking a elderly couple's order when the front door swung open and Trud came dashing in, hair messy and shirt on backwards. She could be seen sliding underneath the counter barrier and disappeared into the back. Imogen let a smile come over her face when she looked out into the parking lot to see a silver Jetta pulling out onto the main road, a blond boy at the wheel.

She took the rest her order and walked towards the counter and lifted up the barrier with a smile. Putting the ticket on the wheel for Cookie, Imogen pushed open the swinging doors to find Trud apologizing to an amused Jason, their manager on shift.

"I swear it'll never happen again!" Trud said, looking about ready to fall on her hands and knees dutifully. Everyone knew how much she needed her job and one day being late wasn't going to get her fired. It was amusing all the same.

Stan looked over and gave Imogen a smile, patting Trud on the shoulder gently. "You're one of our best workers, Gertrude," he said seriously. It was funny seeing Jason being serious, he was only a year or so older than Imogen was chronologically but really, he was still sixteen and an idiot. It's why everyone loved to work with him. "Don't worry about it," he said before walking past both girls and going out into the front.

Trud let out a sigh and ran a hand through her hair, a visual habit of her nervousness. She muttered a few things to herself and turned. "Hey," she said to her friend while hanging her bag on the hook next to the employee bathroom.

"You look like you had a late night," Imogen commented. There was a suggestive tone to her voice that did not go unheard.

"I had to crash at Reid's last night, " she defended in a tired tone. Another hair run through. "I locked Robert out of the house and I think I drank a couple beers and ended up puking in the bushes. I couldn't go home so I kind of made Reid let me stay in his roommates bed."

She continued talking as Imogen stared at her, a little openmouthed. It took Trud a few seconds to realize this and she quickly stopped talking. "What?" she asked.

"You drank."

It didn't even come out anything like a question. It wasn't even a rhetorical one; it was just a simple statement. Trud didn't even have time to question what Imogen had meant by that before she turned abruptly on her heel and walked out into the front, doors swinging behind her. Shrugging, Gertrude let it go and quickly clocked in and got herself to work. She was late enough as it was.

She took customer orders, brought them to the back, gave people their endless supplies of coffee, and repeated the process dozens of times over for the next few hours. Over time, her stomach started yelling in protest, out of hunger or still angry from the night before, she didn't know. After eating a portion of toast and eggs before having to promptly run to the bathroom to empty her stomach, Trud decided against eating and ignored the pain in her stomach.

She could feel Imogen keeping a close eye on her throughout her shift, but ignored her. Imogen had yet to speak to her since she had arrived, and she didn't have the energy to fight with her. By the time her shift ended at four, Trud felt like the walking dead. All she wanted to do was go home and sleep in her own nice warm bed for the rest of her life. She could go to bed and never wake up and die happy. It was probably untrue, but it was how she felt at the moment. The only problem with getting home was her lack of a vehicle.

Reid had picked her up for the party and brought her to work, which meant her car was still at home. And there was no way in hell she was going to call her father to come pick her up, ever. Instead, Trud had asked Imogen as she passed by and was promised to be taken home once her shift got over in two hours. She could either wait until Immy was done working or she could walk home. She opted to fall asleep with her head on a table and wait. Falling asleep had never been easier with the exception for the times an anesthesiologist had made her count backwards from one hundred.

--

I love Gertrude Johnson like a sister, really, I do. I just have moments in time when I want to wring her stupid little neck and scream at her. Now, was one of those times. I know she doesn't even realize what she's doing sometimes, I think she's avoiding the obvious just like everyone else seems to be doing, but it doesn't give her the excuse to be outright stupid. It doesn't give her the right to let herself die.

Honestly, what was she thinking last night? Maybe it slipped her mind, maybe she was distracted, maybe the a piece of the moon fell out of the sky and knocked her on the head which gave her temporary memory loss. Maybe she really just didn't care anymore.

She was passed out at one of the tables near the back and I'd been doing a pretty good job of keeping an eye on her when it happened. I probably should have just taken her in when she told me she'd been drinking, it would have saved her the embarrassment later, but I could really care less if she was humiliated or not. It was her own damn fault. It wouldn't matter anyway, if she kept up living like she was, she wouldn't be alive long enough to be embarrassed.

I was cleaning tables across the room from her when I heard the crash. I'd had 911 typed into the screen of my cell phone and hidden away in my pocket since Trud had arrived. I figured it was only a matter of time before something happened. Something always happened. I was on the phone with a dispatcher before anyone even really processed what was happening. Everyone just sort of stood around and watched as a young, seemingly healthy seventeen year old girl seized on the floor before them. After a few moments, everyone seemed to move at the same time. A young man who claimed to be a medical student told everyone to stand back and took hold of the situation and of Trud.

I gave the dispatcher our address and made sure to giver her the details of Trud's current condition. I left nothing out that I could think of and only hung up when the ambulance pulled into the parking lot, lights flashing and sirens blaring. I didn't go with her when the paramedics took her away the hospital a little while later. There wouldn't be anything to do at the hospital except wait, and I hated waiting.

Instead, I called Robert, Trud's father, and left a message for him even though I knew he wouldn't get it. I then left a text message for Reid, the boy who had come in last night asking for Trud's number. When he asked, I'd been skeptical. I'd seen him around at a few parties before and I'd heard from more than one source the type of person he was. I didn't understand why he would care about her, especially after learning of her suddenly short life expectancy. Even Wes had flown the coop with that one.

Even still, Reid kept asking until finally, I figured there wasn't any harm in it. Trud could turn him down herself if she wanted, it wasn't my place to decide for her. So, I'd handed over her cell number and threatened his future children if he hurt her, in any way, shape, and/or form. I think he got the idea pretty well. Just so long as he didn't break her heart and leave me to pick up the pieces to glue back together. But I knew, deep down, it was more likely to be exactly the opposite.

When I clocked out and got into my car to head to the hospital, I wondered who helped piece Reid back together.

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**Reviews are always great.**

**Posted: 050309  
Original Word Count: **_**3026  
**_**Revised Word Count: **_**4528**_


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